One of my favourite live music venues is
Worcester's
Huntingdon Hall - a former 18th century Methodist chapel which continues to play
host to an eclectic array of artists. Over the years, I’ve seen guitar wizards like
Gordon Giltrap and Eduardo Nuebla, singer-songwriter Dean Friedman and prog-folk
legends like Focus, The Strawbs, Magna Carta and Caravan. (Many of these shows
are memorialised here on this very blog. Just use the ‘search’ button to revisit
those.)
Now that live shows are getting going again I’ve been
tempted back twice to Huntingdon Hall in the last two months. In October I saw –
for the second time – eighties synth-pop balladeers China Crisis. I’d last seen
them here almost exactly two years previously, and that earlier gig is poignantly
memorable for being the last live concert that I ever went to with my late wife.
We had been pleasantly surprised both by the charming familiarity and warmth of
the music and the hilarious banter of singer Gary Daly, whose wit is more entertaining
than many a stand-up comedian. Songs like Christian, Wishful Thinking and
Black Man Ray have an enduring wistfulness.
When I saw China Crisis again last month the music was every
bit as uplifting and the repartee every bit as funny. When some audience members
began to call out to him between songs, Gary responded: ‘Ah, audience
interaction! We like that because, to be honest, for a minute I thought you
were all f***ing dead.’
Fewer laughs were to be had at last week’s
Martin Simpson
gig. I’d last seen Martin Simpson at Huntingdon Hall in 2010. This distinctive English
folk singer, guitarist and songwriter is now 68 years old but he continues to
dazzle with his mellifluent guitar playing and unaffecting singing. There were
one or two self-deprecating jokes but this is an artist who takes his art seriously
and whose audience respect him for that. A subtle, occasional use of delay on
the vocals was supplied by the sound engineer rather than pedals, causing a few
in the audience to question their sanity. Highlights included a quasi-bluegrass
version of Dylan’s
Buckets of Rain and a moving rendition of
Donal Óg
(Young Donald) as well as Martin’s always touching tribute to his dad,
Never
Any Good.
From wistful synth-pop to masterful folk, we’re very blessed
to have venues like Huntingdon Hall.
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